


And There You Find Your Face Too Clear

by Prochytes



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prochytes/pseuds/Prochytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting a grip on yourself is easier in principle than in practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And There You Find Your Face Too Clear

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers to 4x01 “Neither Here Nor There”. Written for Porn Battle XIV (Fiery Fourteen) on LJ in 2013, to the prompt “Fringe, Olivia/Altlivia, antagonistic, strength, submission”.

Jesus God, the strain. Liv hadn’t needed to dig this deep since the Olympics.

Blondie was still way too slow to wear Liv’s face, but she had muscle. And smarts. When this fight, like their first, had gone to the floor, Liv had thought it meant that Blondie was finished. Last time, though, she had toppled punchy, punished again and again by her rival’s speed. This time, the dive had been deliberate, and Liv was learning why: on the ground, with neither woman groggy, Liv’s superior reflexes counted for less. Her double was just as supple, just as strong. And so they threshed together on the floor, straining in silence, rummaging for that dime of extra strength that would make the difference.

Liv was fairly sure that when Broyles (both of him) had proposed that the Fringe teams train with their counterparts in the interests of building trust, this was not exactly what t(he)y had had in mind. On the other hand, she had to admit that the rematch was cathartic. A healing experience. Maybe the kind of healing experience from which you hobbled away on crutches, but hey: no pain, no gain.

Fifteen minutes of solid groundwork later (because time-outs were for pro footballers and wusses) and Liv finally ( _finally_ ) felt her double begin to buckle. Liv recognized the roll in the hips that would have brought her – their – powerful legs into play, making up for the fatigue of the arms and shoulders. Liv closed it down. Her alternate winced, and locked her gaze with Liv’s.

Weird to be fenced outside by the hazel, looking in. To find no “I” in “Olivia”. Liv wondered about the world behind those eyes. Denser than her own, perhaps - the fine grain of it burnished by that inimitable memory. A world apart. Even when you had her in a headlock, she was always somehow in the middle distance.

But fancy thoughts kick no asses, and there was a score to settle here. Liv Dunham had lost exactly one fistfight to another human being in ten years. (Freakbeasts didn’t count. Ditto shapeshifters. Charlie would say otherwise, but he was just in envy of her streak.) Frankly, that one spot on her record _burned_. 

Just... a little... more.

The blonde slumped. “Enough. I give.”

“About time.” Liv watched as the other managed, on the second try, to sit upright. Sweat over freckled skin over corded muscle. Damn, but I am a fine-looking woman when I work out. “You ran me close.”

“I know.” Her double eyed her sidelong. “Best of three?”

FINIS


End file.
